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tired.”
    She reached over and put her hand on my forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever. We can wait until tomorrow to frost these.”
    As soon as the last pan of cookies came out of the oven, I got ready for bed. Mom was narrowing down the contest entries to her top ten when I said good night. I realized that Sophie’s thank-you letter had never come. One more worry to stir into my pot of problems.
    Although I was tired, it took me a long time to fall asleep. I kept wondering what had happened in Sophie’s family that made her refuse to meet Mrs. Reed and reluctant to go to the food bank. When Waggy curled up beside me, I wondered where Midnight was spending the night.
    Rain tap-danced on the roof over my bed. I hoped Midnight had found a place to stay dry. He was such a small cat, in such a harsh neighborhood.
    As soon as I got on the school bus the next morning, Lauren said, “I looked at the county real estate records and found out who owns the building where Sophie lives. It’s a business called Winkowski Associates. The president is John Winkowski. I called his office. He wasn’t available, so I told his secretary that I needed to contact my friend from school who lives in apartment 3 of the building on East Sycamore.”
    â€œGood thinking.” While I’d been home fretting uselessly, she had taken action to try to solve our problem.
    â€œI said I couldn’t remember Sophie’s last name and asked if she could tell me what it is, but she refused. She said Winkowski Associates does not disclose any personal information about their tenants.”
    â€œNo surprise.”
    â€œI told her Sophie’s mom was in the hospital and I was trying to help them,” Lauren continued, “but I don’t think I should have said that.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause she jumped on that news and started asking me a bunch of questions. Which hospital? What was wrong with her? Was anyone still staying in the apartment?”
    â€œUh-oh,” I said. “I’ll bet someone went right over there. Maybe Sophie’s mom owes back rent.”
    â€œThat’s what I think, too,” Lauren said. “Instead of Sophie finding our note, someone from Winkowski Associates probably found it and threw it away.”
    â€œWe need to go back there,” I said. “If the note is gone, we’ll leave another note.”
    â€œTake tape this time,” Lauren said.
    â€œCan you go today?” I asked.
    Lauren shook her head. “I have an orthodontist appointment after school. Let’s go tomorrow.”
    We agreed to return the next day, but the more I thought about the situation, the more uneasy I felt. By the time school let out, I had decided to return to Sophie’s apartment by myself. I left a voice-mail message for Mom, telling her I was finishing up my community service project and would be home in time for dinner. Then I caught the city bus on the first leg of the ride to Sophie’s apartment.
    The bags of groceries were gone. So was the note I’d wedged in the door. If Sophie had found it, I knew she would have found a way to call me by now.
    No sound came from either apartment 3 or apartment 4. I knocked on Sophie’s door and wasn’t surprised when nobody answered. I’d brought a note with me, identical to the one I’d written the day before, and a roll of Scotch tape. I took them out of my jacket pocket and taped the note securely to the door.
    Then I went downstairs and walked behind the building to see if the cat food had been eaten, but I never made it around to the back of the Dumpster because as I approached, I heard a soft meowing sound.
    â€œMidnight?” I said. “Is that you?”
    The meow came again, louder this time. I looked around, trying to figure out where he was.
    â€œMidnight,” I said. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
    The meow escalated into a mournful yowl.
    I